Do-Over
by AiyokuSama
Summary: Jason wakes up thinking he is 15. According to the date, he should be 19. Oh and Magic sucks!
1. Chapter 1

Do-over—Deaged Jason Todd (age 16) has to relearn everything,. AU in which he never died. Everything is still current-day for everyone else.

Part One

Jason isn't a morning person; he never has been, except when he's had to be. And right now, he has to be, because things feel very wrong. The boy sits bolt upright in bed, blinking furiously, trying to get his eyes to focus... A baby blue room? Other then the colour it's pretty generic, just a bedroom like any other. But not like his. He's not in the Manor. Where the fuck is he?

He looks down and does a double take. What the fuck is he WEARING?!

The t-shirt is a rich purple with...Teletubbies on it?! Oh man. If he's being held hostage, this is seriously messed up. But he's not. Or he doesn't _think _so. He's not restrained in any way and the door to his room is even open a crack. He smells...bacon? Yup, that's definitely bacon. Of the maple variety. Jason's belly growls. He's hungry, but not starved. Okay, he's starved by virtue of being a growing boy, but... Meh. He gives up trying to make sense of it.

Throwing the warm covers off, he swings his legs over the bed and stops. White boxers with pink hearts? Seriously?! Jason gives a heartfelt groan. Fine, time to get answers. First stop is the window. He opens the thick curtains and has a look. That's the Gotham skyline alright, but wherever he is, it's close to the top of it. Okay, then. The teen heads to the door and pulls it open slowly.

He finds himself in a short hallway that opens up to his left. To his right are three other closed doors. Jason can hear kitchen sounds and someone typing on a keyboard. A quick glance around the area shows no cameras or shit like that so...

Jason steps out and heads to the open area. He thinks he's doing a good job of being stealthy, but apparently not. A voice says conversationally, "He's up, Dick." Dick?

When he gets farther along, he can see a black-haired kid sitting on the couch, his gaze glued to the laptop. Without looking up, the boy gestures to the open concept kitchen. "He's that way," the boy informs him. And yes, there is Dick, standing at the stove, wearing an apron over his pyjama bottoms. With MUCH shorter hair.

"Uh, when did you cut your hair?" Jason asks lamely, as he gives the unknown boy one more glance before heading to the table.

"Oh, a while ago now," the man says turning around with a smile. Does he have MORE laugh lines? It's Dick, so he probably does.

"You mean like last month?" That's about how long it's been since he's seen the guy. The annoying prick doesn't come around often, but he seems to have made it his mission in life to abduct Jason on a semi-regular basis for the acrobat's idea of "fun" and brotherly bonding. Not that Jason would EVER admit it, but the train surfing IS kinda fun.

"Not… not quite. What's the last thing you remember, Jay?" Dick isn't looking at him. Well he IS cooking and bacon can burn easily, but why isn't Dick looking at him?

Jason shrugs as he sits. "Fighting with B, 'course. You know how it is with him."

Finally Dick turns around and his expression is positively worried. But also... hopeful? He gestures for Jason to continue. It's all starting to creep him out, and there is still that kid in the living room. What's going on? No, he'll play along for now. Maybe. Yeah, no, he will.

"I was pissed and needed to clear my head, so I went into Gotham." He stops himself and frowns. "I... I was going to, but I don't remember leaving the grounds." The frown deepens.

Dick is nodding, even as he asks, "What's the date, Jay?"

"Uh..." He thinks about it. It's mid-morning now, and it had been afternoon when he fought with Bruce, so... "August third ." Assuming he'd only been asleep for the one night...

"What year?"

Jason looks at the first Robin as if he's lost his freakin' mind, because clearly, he has. It becomes a staring contest, and the longer it goes on, the more scarily serious and worried Dick's expression becomes. Jason breaks first and answers. "2008."

"It's November 19th, 2012," a voice from the living room informs them. The kid. Who..?

"Who the fuck is the comedian?" Jason demands, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the approximate direction.

"That's Tim Drake. He took over being Robin after you—" And Jason has no idea what Dick says next, because it's utter gibberish. He stares at the man like he's grown a second head. Dick blinks back at him. "What?"

"After I what?" Jason demands. He's starting to get annoyed. Okay, _more _annoyed. He grinds his teeth, until he realizes that he's doing so; then he forces himself to stop.

"You…" This time the gibberish is coming from the kid—Tim?—in the living room, who is STILL looking at his fucking laptop.

"What the hell is with the baby babble?! It's not funny!" Jason snarls, as he slams his hands down on the kitchen table. He's at the wrong angle to glower at the kid, so Dick gets a double dose.

Dick blinks back at him. "No one is joking around, Jaybird, honest. Um..." He seems to be reaching for something to say. Is he trying to spare Jason's feelings?! The fucker would, too! But Jason doesn't NEED to be protected and his feelings are just fine. Well, yes, they are on the angry end of things currently, but that's totally reasonable!

"Spit it out!" he says with another snarl. Now he's only snarling because he can't think of anything more appropriately dramatic to do.

Dick turns back to the bacon, pulling the crispy strips out of the pan and putting them on some paper towels to drain. The gusty sigh is dead obvious. "Blood brought you here last night. He said that there might be some... side effects."

This revelation is not helping Jason's temper. At all. But he takes a deep breath and stuffs down his irritation. Or as down as it ever gets with him. "Complications from what? And what complications?" His skull is starting to throb; the jerk is giving him a headache. Or the kid is. No, they are both fucking in it together and Jason really needs to stop now, because he's not making sense inside his own head!

Finished with the bacon, Dick turns and looks at him. He looks fucking old and tired. "Let's start with the complications. There was magic involved-"

"Aw fucking hell," Jason moans. Magic is fucking STUPID and a pain in the ass, too.

"-so you know how unpredictable things can get." Dick holds out his hands apologetically. "Anyhow, Blood seemed to think that you might not remember a lot of stuff. And that maybe you wouldn't even be able to be TOLD about some of it. He said it's like there are barriers in your head, like it's your brain trying to protect itself." The guy is talking fast. Is he nervous? He's practically trying to will Jason to understand.

For his part, Jason sinks into a kitchen chair and puts his head down on the table. Bonks his head against the table, actually. Again. Nope, it's still not making sense! Before he can bonk his head on the solid surface one more time, a hand gently cradles his forehead protectively. Dick is so... Dick. Just the same, Jason looks up and is about ready to scream when he sees the blatant sympathy on the man's face.

He digests that and grinds his teeth. No, not that. He sighs. Aw crap, now he sounds like Dick.

Someone places a plate of bacon on the table in front of him. The hand on the plate is small; delicate even. He blinks up and it's the kid. "Eat," Tim says. "Both of you," and he sets another plate before Dick who is still standing. "Don't make me sic Alfred on you."

Jason blinks and huffs, but there is no real heat behind it. Of course, Dick is grinning like the idiot he is, but he sits and tucks into his breakfast. Which is all bacon. Alfred would be most put out. Jason, on the other hand, is not complaining at all. He takes a forkful and stuffs it in. Okay, it's official, bacon makes everything better. He clears half his plate before he asks, "So why did Blood bring me here? Why not the Manor?" The sorcerer knows who he is, so what's the deal?

"Um...you and Bruce really don't get along. At all. It's… kind of a long story," Dick explains lamely. "After you~~" more gibberish, then the words are back. "You kind of made it your mission to make his life difficult and you did a really good job of it, too. But you were~~" MORE gibberish. "Then you~~"

At that point, Jason holds up a hand. "I only got... half of that?" And it makes no fucking sense. "So B doesn't like me. I'm guessing that means if I'd been dropped off there, he would have done something stupid like tie me to the computer chair in the Cave?" He gives Dick a meaningful look and is somewhat mollified when the jerk chokes on a laugh.

"Probably not that tame," Tim quips. He's back in the living room with that computer of his.

Jason still has no idea who this kid is and it's hard to get a read on him. He looks to Dick, waiting for an explanation.

"Gotham is... a lot darker then you remember, Jay. And a lot has happened. Some of it involved you." The guy is looking distressed again. Pensive. No, he's looking fucking constipated. It's the sort of thing he'd expect from Bruce, not the expressive acrobat.

"That bad, huh?" It's a rhetorical question, but his big brother tenses. "Come on Dick, how bad could it be?" The look tells him it was VERY bad. Oh.

Jason frowns down at what remains of his bacon. After a moment, he starts eating mechanically. Life on the street has made sure that Jason will never waste food. Even life with Alfred, who always made sure he had his fill, never changed that. While he eats, his brain is trying to process what little he has heard and is coming to the uncomfortable conclusion that it simply won't work. Not with so many things he apparently can't hear.

He's back to grumbling under his breath about magic. Dick is giving him a worried look. The teen shrugs his right shoulder. "Nothin', Big Bird. Just hating this shit," he huffs ineffectually.

Once his plate is clean, he takes it to the sink and carefully places it in. Then he glances back at the kid on the couch. Still working on that damned computer. And frowning hard at something. He wonders what has the kid so focused.

Since Dick seems to have busied himself with cleaning the plates, Jason heads over behind the couch and looks over the kid's shoulder. What the—? Is the kid trying to run a search on magickers? He slams the laptop closed before Jason can be sure. And glares at him for his trouble. Jason just smirks back, pulling on his best brat face.

"So how'd you get to be Robin?" Jason is pushing hard to keep his tone conversational, but it's not easy. His stomach is in knots about someone else wearing HIS short-shorts. Is this how Dick felt when he'd first seen Jason out there? Suddenly he has lot more sympathy for his older brother, as well as an even greater sense of amazement that Dick hadn't killed him on sight.

Tim seems to be considering his words carefully. Or maybe he's just trying to get a read on Jason. Possibly both. Probably both. More than probably, given the way the kid is staring. "After you...went away," and it's clear he'd wanted to say something else, "Bruce was in very bad shape. At first, I tried to convince Dick to come back and be Robin again."

Jason sorts. "Yeah, bet that went over well." He can just picture it, too. Some kid telling Dick that Bruce needs him and Dick being a world of HELL NO.

Tim shrugs. "He did come back, but as Nightwing and no one was listening to me, so..." Another shrug. "I ended up putting on the suit and going with Alfred to save the both of them."

That gets Jason blinking. A lot. Alfred is awesome in so many ways, but him being out on the street isn't right. And an untrained kid in— "Wait. DID you have training before you put the costume on?"

The kid smiles a little. "Does a Bristol karate dojo count?"

It's official. Jason's brain is broken. More broken. Oh hell. He scrubs a hand through his hair. Then he gives his head a violent shake that translates into a full-body effort, cuz, uh, wow. He takes a few deep breaths and just looks at the kid, who really is kind of scrawny. Okay, no. Lean is a better word, though he's willing to bet that a lot of folks make the mistake of thinking scrawny. And maybe get their asses handed to them for it. Heh.

Tim is built like a swimmer, all wiry muscle and no spare flesh. He can see that, now that he's looking. Was the kid scrawny when he was younger? Jason is now VERY curious. He moves around the couch and sits down next to the kid, still looking him over. He notes Tim's wary, raised eyebrow.

"And B let you?" Jason asks conversationally. Or it would be conversationally, if he wasn't so obviously digging for information. Digging in an open, good-natured way. Mostly.

Had Tim been expecting him to ask something else? The boy seems startled and suspicious, but maybe… hopeful? Very much the same expression as Dick's. Okay, that kind of gives Jason the creeps and makes him want to ask about the things he's apparently not allowed to know about himself. Stupid goddamned magic!

"He didn't exactly have a choice," Tim says quietly, interrupting Jason's mental tirade. Now it's Jason's turn to raise an eyebrow and gesture impatiently for the kid to continue. "Dick and Alfred backed me and I… kind of used logic to corner him." He smiles ruefully.

Jason snorts and shifts position, so that he can lightly punch Tim's shoulder. "Bet he loved that," he scoffs, amused. Bruce probably hated it, since he can't deny logic the way he can so many other things. That said, he'd likely try to find reasons to discount the logic. Like maybe making up an excuse for why the kid wouldn't be good enough? But even so, that wouldn't really work, because Bruce took HIM in, a dirty street rat with no real skills, just a big attitude and an even bigger mouth.

Tim shrugs. "You know him. He has his own rules." There is a lot he's leaving out, but Jason has no idea what.

Jason thinks about trying to find out about what Bruce has been doing lately, whatever the fuck "lately" covers. But maybe that's a waste of time. Maybe it's better to get it from the source. "Think he'll shoot me on sight?" he asks, standing up. That gets Dick's attention. The acrobat leaves the kitchen and heads over like he's thinking about maybe hugging Jason. Or hog tying him. Both? With Dick both isn't out of the question by any means.

Standing up quickly the teen puts the couch between himself and his determined older brother, eyeing him. Dick sighs and puts up his hands in surrender. "Jay, just give it some time before you head to the Cave, okay? And let one of us at least give him a heads up. Please?" The please gets Jason's attention, like nothing else he's been hearing has; this is going to be hard for Bruce. Well if the guy currently hates him, shouldn't that make sense? He doesn't really know.

Jason is back to hating magic and not being able to see the giant fucking elephant in the room. An elephant that, apparently, might trample Bruce. Jason doesn't want that to happen. Sure there are lots of times when he's wanted to smack the fucker silly, maybe even knock out a perfect tooth or two, but that's not the same thing at all. Is it?

He has no idea and trying to come up with one is exacerbating his headache. He shakes his head again and looks at Dick. "So call him. I..." He looks down at himself. He's still in the damned t-shirt and boxers. Fuck! "I need some real clothes. Like now," Jason demands as he crosses his arms and glares.

Of course, Dick is smirking at him. "Whatchya got against the Teletubbies, Little Wing?"

He rolls his eyes. Really, any other response would only encourage the idiot. "Fine, I'll go help myself to YOUR closet," he threatens and heads for the bedrooms. Or... uh, his room? He hasn't exactly explored the penthouse. Nor does he remember Bruce having anything like this.

"My room is that way…" Dick supplies helpfully, as he jerks his thumb in the direction opposite the one Jason's going. Of fucking course. Gah. "…but there should be some things close to your size in your room. I had Alfred pull some of your clothes out of storage after Blood dropped you off."

And that means that Alfred knows... something at least. But Bruce doesn't? Well, the butler is known for his discretion. Especially if it's something that would cause "Master Bruce" difficulties. He frowns as he heads back down the hall to what apparently is Jason's room. Does that mean Dick is inviting him to stay? The acrobat probably is without even realizing it. It's a thought. It's definitely a thought. Maybe his only option, if Bruce decides to be a jerk.

He looks in the drawers first. There are boxers and socks, some t-shirts and a couple of pairs of shorts. Not a lot. The underwear is new. But the shirts and shorts are his. He smiles when he finds two pairs of his comfortable, faded jeans. Perfect. If it's November, then there's no fucking way he's surviving in shorts.

But when he slips into them, he frowns. They are an inch ABOVE his ankles. These had been the perfect length the last time he put them on, down to the floor, with the edges scraping the dust as they should. The fuck? Did he grow overnight or something? But given all the nonsense so far, is it really any wonder?

At this point he's going with the idea that it's best to just shrug and move on. Worrying about this shit sure won't change anything. So, yeah, dressed. Part of him wishes for his Robin suit. But that would be stupid during the day. Besides, Tim's...

He stops and thinks about it. It's... he feels kind of removed from it, where he hadn't been just ten minutes ago. He's not Robin any more. Hasn't been for a while, going by what Goldie had said. Now the new kid is Robin. And... he has no idea how he feels about that. Robin WAS—is?—the most awesome thing that ever happened to him. He wouldn't trade it for anything. But… but he's apparently moved on from Robin, becoming something else. Like Dick did with Nightwing?

Part of Jason likes the idea. It's... When he was 12, Bruce found him. Batman. Who was big and amazing and had all kinds of cool shit. Then when he was 13, and he started going out with him as the Boy Wonder, that was the best. Empowering. He could help people in ways he'd only been able to dream of, when he'd been on his own in Crime Alley. He still can and it's still... Still a THING inside him, bright and tight at the same time.

But... but it's not limited TO Robin. Is it? He was out there as... as something not Robin, doing his thing. Was he doing his thing? He'd kind of have to be, right? He's still himself and fucking with Bruce wouldn't change it, right? So it's okay that Tim is Robin? Isn't it?

He has no idea. Part of him finds that odd. Another part thinks he should figure it out. The rest of him is too damned tired of this shit to care anymore. He wants. Ice cream.

Jason smiles as he does up his sneakers and heads back out. "Dick, I need money. I want a waffle cone." When Dick glances up from his handstand push-ups—fucking show-off—in the middle of the living room, he adds, "with sprinkles. Does Ramino's still exist?"

Dick and the Tim kid are looking at him like he'd just asked for... for something a lot less innocent. Jason blinks at them. "What? I want ice cream." Okay, so that's just an excuse to get the fuck out of here. And think. Or maybe simply to not think. Yeah, not thinking is sounding really good at this point.

The acrobat flips up onto his feet and goes to the side table, where a battered leather wallet sits. He pulls out a twenty and hands it over. "Just, uh...ice cream?" There's something the guy isn't saying. Jason narrows his eyes at him. Dick blinks. "What?"

"That's MY question, Dick." Okay, a bit of a sneer is coming through. "Was I an addict or something?!" He couldn't have been. He... No, drugs are one thing he's never... would never...

Dick looks utterly horrified and he waves his hands somewhat frantically. "Nononono! That's not.. I just... Don't go to the Manor, kay? Not until we can give Bruce a heads up. But uh... yeah. Just trust me on this?" The man's bright blue eyes are openly pleading with him, begging him.

Jason blinks. That was... really? "Uh... okay?" He really hadn't been thinking about going there, especially when they've been over this not so long ago. For all that part of him IS still mad about a fight that apparently happened years ago, it's just, he's not that concerned about seeing the guy. "Yeah, just ice cream. Maybe some walking around." He really has to see how things have changed.

Before Dick can say anything, Tim looks up from that computer of his. No, he closes it. "I'll go with you," he announces as he walks over. The kid is wearing some stylish slacks and a neatly pressed button-down shirt. 'Dork' is the word that comes to Jason's mind. "Maybe I can fill in some of the blanks," the boy offers.

Jason bites his lip. He has the bad feeling he's being fucking _managed_. And he really hates that shit. But... But... His life is filled with fucking "but" and not in a good way. He restrains his urge to scream and pull out his hair. Or Tim's hair, maybe. Hmm, that thought has possibilities. Naw. Still, it makes him smile crookedly for a reason he can't explain.

"Yeah, sure," he says finally, as he heads to the door. Uh... did that sound as bitchy as he thought? Well, crap. Whatever. Too much shit has happened in the last hour. So, fuck it. He shrugs it off and opens the door, which leads to a small hallway. That hallway has a couple of side tables with silk running cloths and tasteful knick-knacks on them. The floor is marble, of course. And the elevator is gilded, glitzy. It's totally the sort of thing one would expect of Brucie Wayne. Has he ever even BEEN here?

Random thoughts are random. Is that another aspect of his mind trying to protect itself? Or is it just him being him? Him being human? Humans generally have ten different trains of thought going at any given moment. And that is beyond random. It doesn't even really sound like him. Feel like him? How does one describe thoughts?

After a moment, he realizes that Tim is standing behind him, just out of touching distance and that is something. He has no idea what, which is annoying since it feels like something he should understand. Something that means a lot of whatever it is he's not remembering. Aw damnit.

"Are we friends?" he asks, as the elevator pings and the doors open. The car is lined with mirrors. He wonders how many cameras are hidden behind them.

"I…" The kid is frowning when Jason glances back over his shoulder. Frowning hard. Jason waits. "We didn't exactly get off on the right foot."

Well that's fucking cryptic. Jason scowls back at him. And just gets a shrug in return.

"Let's just call this our first time, k?" Tim asks. That hopeful look is back. As is something else Jason can't define. Whatever it is, it makes the kid look even younger, which is just plain weird and so not making sense.

Still, the request is reasonable enough. And given all the rest of the stupidity, why the fuck not? Since he can't remember and noone can tell him, it's not like there's much choice. He nods slowly and then offers the kid his hand to shake. "Jason Todd, nice ta meetcha."

Tim is looking at his hand like it might be a snake in disguise. Then he shakes it firmly, before letting go. "Tim Drake. A pleasure." The boy has a shy little smile on his lips. "You never knew, but I used to follow Robin and Batman at night. I got some pretty decent pictures of you making various thugs rethink their career paths."

Jason is torn between smirking and gaping, because that was kind of a bombshell. "Did B know you where there?" But why the fuck would Bruce let a kid follow them around, if he knew?

"No, not until I approached him about... things." The smile is gone now, replaced by a frown. Well, at least, Jason isn't the only one getting annoyed with the current state of affairs.

There are so many things to ask, but most of them would open all kinds of cans of worms that he's really not up to dealing with at the moment. So what's safe? Okay, that's a stupid-assed question, all things considered. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Wanna spar some time?"

The boy looks conflicted. Surprised? Suspicious? Hopeful, definitely that. And just, well, "young" is the best term. The best term? Whatever it is makes Jason want to fidget. Or pat the kid on the head. Or blush?

He gives himself an internal shake.

"Yeah, we can do that. Do you like staves?" It's kind of cute how innocent and perfectly conversational that question came out.

"I'm more a baseball bat kind of guy, ya know?" Jason offers with a lopsided grin. He's SEEN Bruce working with the wooden practice poles, and the man is scary-awesome—which is pretty much par for the course—but those sorts of things are just too finicky for Jason to stay focused on for long. Or they were when he was a kid. Gah! Seeing as he's still young. Younger? And even then, it's not true, cuz he totally loves the finesse he gets with the batarangs and blades in general and-

He's back to not making sense to himself. Jason scrubs a hand through his hair and growls. The kid is giving him a worried look and shifting into a barely noticeable ready position. Exactly how bad WAS that first meeting?

Jason gestures to stand down and closes his eyes. That really doesn't help, so next he works on his breathing, which is kind of a half-assed meditation and that does work. Mostly. Maybe. "It's okay, it's okay. Just… my head keeps thinking random things that really don't have shit to do with shit." He opens his eyes to see Tim is nodding slowly, maybe carefully considering the words, even. Naw, more likely he's assessing the level of threat Jason poses.

Should he be flattered? Jason squelches that thought as soon as it's formed, because godDAMN, this is getting annoying. "It's been happening a lot since I woke up," he continues and blows out a breath (which is becoming a fucking HABIT), as the elevator stops and the door opens. The synthetic tone is obscenely cheerful, as they arrive on the ground floor. No, focus on something that matters. "Ice cream," he says as he steps out into the... oh, it's the WE building. Or, it looks like the Wayne Enterprises building. It's had a face lift, but everything is roughly where he remembers it.

Jason can't help but gawk a little, as he looks around the lobby. No one seems to be taking particular note of the two teenagers. "I've really missed a lot, huh?" he muses, as he eyes a particularly-hot brunette. Who completely ignores him.

"A lot. There was a plague. Twice. And an earthquake. Then the government blew the bridges and abandoned the city—" Tim stops and blinks at him. Probably because Jason's eyes are wide as hell. Is the kid serious? He doesn't seem to be joking. If anything, he looks tired as he recounts the events. "It's been a messy four years," the kid concludes.

Jason can't really do anything but nod. And really, just damn. That's a fuckload of shit. "And I wasn't around for any of that?" He ponders that, as they head through the glass main doors and onto the street. The sun is bright, and obviously, it's early afternoon. It's normal and just... normal. It's hard to credit that so much shit has happened to his city.

But it is Gotham, so, of course, it has. Some days, he wonders if the universe just hates this place or something.

"Given the timeline... you were um... back before the earthquake hit. But you weren't in Gotham. I think. It's kind of sketchy. You weren't exactly forthcoming with the specifics." Tim gives a helpless—apologetic even—little shrug. And what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?

Okay, no, focus. The city. He needs to know what is going on now. "Things look back to normal," he remarks, as he glances about them. The WE building is in the business district, which is pretty well-to-do and looks like it might have seen some recent remodelling, as well. Could it be called gentrification when it's already pretty... pretty?

He snaps his wondering thoughts back into his skull. Is this what it means to have attention deficit disorder? If so, he will NEVER make fun of ADD again! How do people function?!

"More or less. But like Dick said, it's darker now. The criminals are just…" The boy makes a helpless gesture. "The Joker is psychotic. I mean, he's always been messed up, but not this bad. And Dent, well it looked like Bruce might have fixed him, but he totally backslid and now, we aren't sure where he is. There have been a lot of new players too..."

Jason listens as the boy starts going through a mental list of nutjobs that seem to come straight out of his nightmares. Professor Pyg. Dollmaker. A group called the Court of Owls and their assassins. Some guy named Terminus. Jason gives himself a shake, as he feels his eyes glaze over.

The kid stops talking and gives him a sympathetic look. "I have files, if you want all the details," he offers. "In manageable chunks."

"Maybe later," he hears himself saying, before he really thinks about it. But, no, later is good. Later is fine, actually. Jason frowns and he's not sure why. No, he knows. It's all just that overwhelming and there is so much more he can't even begin to touch. He's never wanted a "normal" life as much as he does now.

Looking around, Jason gets his bearings. Okay, that's Vernon Avenue. So that means... "We'll have to get a cab, if we want to go to Romano's." The twenty will get them there, but not back. Of course, the kid probably has his own funds.

"We can do that. Or…" Tim is looking at him speculatively.

"Or?" Jason prompts, having no idea what the kid is thinking. He does notice that the teen turns them down Falthem Boulevard.

"There's a very nice gelato place four blocks this way." The boy gestures ahead. Watching the loose way the kid moves, he can see the training, even if Joe Blow on the street doesn't. Everything about this Tim guy screams preppy casual. But not that he's useless, not in the sense the Brucie is. Which is good, because otherwise, Jason would have to beat him just on principle.

"Gelato?" Jason has of course heard of it, but he's actually never tried it. From what he'd heard, he gathered it was like a gourmet ice cream. It's an odd idea, since ice cream is pretty awesome to begin with.

He's got his hands in his pockets, shoulders down. Jason is oddly relaxed without realizing it. It's just… This seems normal, despite some of it being very new to him. Or is it more that he wants it to be familiar? That makes some amount of sense, since his brain seems to be looking for something to latch onto. Something "normal" would definitely fit that bill, even if it's actually his first time.

Tim smiles at him. It's more in his eyes than his lips, but the good humour is obvious. As well as sly. "Oh, if you haven't had it, you really need to try it."

Those smiling eyes do it, and Jason has no idea why. Still, he wants to... share this? Naw, not that, but it's as close as he can get in his own head. He knows he wants to do this with Tim and he wants Tim to... enjoy being with him? Where is that feeling coming from? There're a lot of feelings, feelings that seem imperative, that he can't figure out.

He has to conclude that, at the moment, his life is the definition of frustrating. He huffs a sigh, which causes Tim to give him a sidelong look. Is the kid worried? Why would he be worried? Okay, seriously stupid question, expect for how it's not. There are at any number of reasons, and situations which could make Tim concerned. Of course, Jason doesn't remember a lot of the shit Tim and Dick do. He really wants to claw his uncooperative brains out.

When the kid's concerned expression deepens, Jason waves him off. "At this point, just... ignore me if I get stupid." That gets Tim's eyebrows shooting up into his hair line. "What?"

The boy gives a noncommittal shrug. "I'm not used to you being this reasonable." Those words sound both surprised and honest, which really isn't comforting.

"Do I want to know what you're used to from me?" Jason tries to keep the words light, but this is getting darker and more ominous by the minute.

Tim gives his head a shake. "No. You had your reasons, but you didn't exactly deal with your issues well." Could the boy get any more cryptic? Don't throttle him. It won't help anything and it's not the kid's fault that magic seriously sucks ass.

"Let's just go get gelato," Jason says, with a with a strangled growl. Thankfully, Tim seems happy enough to let things go. If only he could get his own head to do the same. Well, why not try some brain freeze therapy? It certainly can't make things worse. Gelato it is.

The End... for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Gelato is divine, Jason's mind declares, as his body melts into the naugahyde-covered bench seat. His eyes are closed as he focuses on savouring the fabulous substance in his mouth. It's not giving him brain freeze, but he's totally forgotten about that particular plan for dealing with all the stupidity currently hurting his head. Instead, it's all about rolling up his eyes behind his closed eyelids and just existing in the moment—which is all about tasting cold, sweet heaven on his tongue.

A soft little chuckle causes him to crack open his eyes and he sees Tim sitting across from him. Smiling. Mostly smiling. It's in his eyes more than anything, and for the world, it looks like he thinks Jason really damned amusing. For his part, Jason finishes his mouthful and then pulls himself upright in his seat before sticking his tongue out at the kid. Then he goes for another spoonful of the mango-flavoured delight. He knows Tim is watching him, but whatever. That so doesn't matter anywhere nearly as much as the need to continue enjoying his new found culinary love.

"And I thought Dick was bad," the kid mutters as he continues to watch Jason enjoying his treat. "You're bordering on pornographic, Jason."

"I'm just that sexy," Jason quips before scoring another mouthful—and yeah, he has finally found his Kryptonite. All a skell will have to do is hand him a carton of gelato and it'll be all over. Heh.

"You're something alright," Tim huffs good naturally before shaking his head. Well that's better than tensing all the fuck up, which is pretty much what the kid's been doing whenever Jason does just about anything. Alright, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but not much of one. Tim has his reasons and, apparently, Jason is the cause of them, but Jason doesn't remember shit all about the kid before meeting him an hour ago. And, since no one can tell him about a lot of important shit, he's just gonna to have to go on wondering.

The kid—Tim—eats like a bird, though he obviously likes the dessert too. Delicate. That word applies to the kid on of a lot of levels. But he's not fragile. Definitely not that. For all that Jason hasn't had the chance to spar with him yet, he can see it. Even with the kid sitting, he can see it. Training.

Of course he's trained; Bruce wouldn't let him out in the costume otherwise. And Jason knows first-hand just how hardcore that training is. How would it have differed for the kid? In Jason's case, it became obvious in short order that his power was his fists and muscles. He had to be some type of bendy to be street-worthy, but he hadn't ever been in Dick's league. Tim, on the other hand, has the bare minimum when it comes to muscle. He looks like he could be a bendy type, but he doesn't really move that way. So...

So, he needs to stop wondering about irrelevancies! Except it's not irrelevant. This is all stuff he's missing. Missed? It's stuff he doesn't remember, so now is a good time to try to recover these memories. Or at least as many of them as the stupid magic shit will allow.

"What kind of training did he give you?" It's a safe enough topic for a public setting. Or so the theory goes. It's a theory Tim is obviously considering himself.

The boy gives a shrug and sits up a little straighter in his seat. "Somewhere between you and Dick, I'd imagine. Dick was part of some of it. He helped me with the acrobatics. And I learned stick weapons from Lady Shiva."

Jason lets out an appreciative whistle. "How did you talk Bruce into allowing that one?" He's ignoring the twinge in his mind that her name seems to trigger. He knows Lady Shiva by reputation, seeing as she's in Bruce's files and all, but he's never met her—which is probably for the best.

The kid is shaking his head. "It wasn't exactly planned. I kind of went AWOL from the approved teacher in France. Then one thing led to another and, well, she is a good teacher."

"If kinda brutal with seriously questionable ethics?" Jason adds with a smile. He's teasing. He thinks he's teasing. Is he about to step on another land mine? That's looking like a possibility when the kid goes very still. But then Tim gives himself a little shake and favours Jason with a sheepish smile.

"Has anyone told you that you have a gift for understatement?" the boy enquires oh-so-innocently. Now Jason really wants to know what that training involved, but he decides to leave it for later. Later is probably better.

If this stupidity is overwhelming to Jason, how is it for everyone else? At least, Jason only has to deal with his own frustration. He doesn't know the kid, having no previous experience with him and no expectations. But Tim knows him, even if Jason doesn't remember it.

And Dick. And Bruce. Bruce will apparently lose his shit over this. Before he can stop himself he's frowning. Something which has Tim sobering fast. Damn it all!

"Just. Thinking of this shit. And Bruce," Jason explains distractedly. The frown turns into an outright scowl, as he regards the half-eaten bowl of gelato. After a moment, he looks up, pinning the kid with a determined gaze. "Do YOU think I should talk to him?"

Dick made Jason promise to not go to the Manor right away. But the more he thinks about it, the more pressing the need to do so becomes. Okay, so maybe some part of him is hoping that Bruce won't be affected by the magic and will actually be able tell him shit, but it's so much more than that. So much that it makes his chest tighten with the need to talk to him.

"Yes, I do. And he needs to talk to you. But, more importantly, you both need to listen ," Tim says quietly, as he watches Jason. Sky blue eyes bore into him. Maybe they're willing him to grab a clue? A clue about what? Jason is the one who actually voices his feelings, unlike a certain emotionally-stunted billionaire.

"Jason." His name, said in a sharp, clipped tone gets his attention. "You need to listen. And you need to really talk. You have issues. You had issues even before you ~~~~" And Jason is grinding his teeth, as whatever Tim says next is lost. Gibberish, stupid, fucking, magically-induced gibberish!

A hand reaches across the table, tapping the surface gently. "Hey, stay with me," Tim says quietly.

Taking a deep breath, Jason focuses on focusing—because yeah, his thoughts are getting kind of chaotic. And angry. And he's clenching his fists under the table. Not good. So fucking not good. Focus! Another deep breath; let it out slowly. Have a third; yes, that's better. He nods to Tim and watches the kid register the change. The boy's hand retreats back across the table as Tim watches him.

"I'm here, I'm here," Jason says, a little shakily.

"Can you tell me what just happened?" The boy is looking at him as if Jason is an interesting species of bug and for that he has to snort a laugh. Laughing is totally better than the alternative. But not too much laughter. Too much and the kid might haul him off to Arkham.

Okay, maybe not that, but Tim is looking worried—which at this point is par for the course, but it is something Jason is really getting tired of seeing.

"I got angry… resentful," Jason explains quietly. His voice is small. It sounds so damned petty to his own ears. But Tim is nodding, accepting it.

"I think... you have a lot of reasons to feel that way." It sounds like the boy is trying to put his thoughts into words, more than actually speak to Jason. "I don't know what they are. Neither you nor Bruce would talk about it, but I got the feeling that whatever it was had been building a long time before everything went sideways ."

Listen; that's what the kid said. Okay, so he'd meant to Bruce, but it's important to listen to him, too. The kid knows things that Jason doesn't… or can't… or what the fuck ever! No, don't get mad, just listen. Take it in and fucking deal with it. He doesn't want to keep being angry. Oh he's not about to do the repression thing that Bruce loves so much, but he just wants to... to have his moods be of his own choosing . He doesn't want to waste his energy on being angry. Not anymore. Anymore?

Deep breath. That's it, that's the way. Deep breath.

"I don't suppose you have any educated guesses," Jason enquires hopefully, but with the distinct feeling that it's an exercise in futility. Tim's headshake confirms his feeling.

"No, sorry. But maybe, you could think about what you DO remember? Life with Bruce? The things that piss you off?" The kid is so earnest, that it makes him look even younger. Which is seriously ridiculous.

"Does he use you as Pedo bait?" Jason blurts out randomly. Uhhhhh.

The kid is blinking at him owlishly and kind of rapidly. But before Jason can start to worry, Tim is giving him a small and very devious smile. "I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about that, mister."

Jason chokes on a horrified laugh. "He DOES?!"

The boy shakes his head, but the little smile isn't going anywhere. "No, but I have fun doing undercover work."

Well he can understand that, even if Jason himself wasn't ever very good at it. Of course, with his arms, there was no way he was going to be in a dress. Not that Bruce didn't try. And... huh. "Did he put you in a dress?" Oh, now the kid's eyes are doing that dancing thing. Good deal. But he still wants to know. "Come on, spill it."

"Once or twice. I've put myself in a dress more than that. And other less-comfortable things if that's what's needed for a case."

That makes Jason's eyebrows rise up into his hairline, because... uh... really? And what would those BE? From the look on Tim's face, he knows EXACTLY what Jason is thinking and has no intention of explaining anything. Sadistic little freak.

In any event, Jason's a fuck of a lot less tense than he had been a minute ago, so he tucks into his melting gelato with a vengeance. But… Oh, damn.

"So. Should I go see him?" Jason tries again, around a mouthful of creamy, mango-flavoured goodness.

"Yes, but give us some time to tell him your situation," Tim says calmly. The kid is so rock steady. In that regard, he's kind of like Alfred. The thought makes him smile. Tim eyes him suspiciously. Playing. The kid is playing with him.

The smile widens as he gets a warm feeling inside. Playing is good. So... "Oh, just mentally fitting you for a butler's suit." That gets him a raised eyebrow, which Jason waves off. "So, how long till you guys tell him?"

"Dick probably put in the call as soon as we left. You should wave at the next street camera we pass."

Jason snorts and DOES get brain freeze, since he's been eating the last spoonful at the same time. Figures. And so does Bruce watching them. He gives his head a shake. "So, does that mean we can head over to the Manor?" It would be the Cave, but no, he's not going to talk about it here. This is too exposed and some things are too ingrained.

"Let me give Dick a call, just in case," the boy says, as he pulls out a sleek cell phone.

Jason motions for him to get on with it. He's starting to get antsy. Waiting has never been his strong suit, but this is even worse. He'd been fine 20 minutes ago with Dick's plan, but now it feels like it's vital that he get a move on with shit. Shit named Bruce. And yeah, the kid was right. He does have issues with Bruce. A lot of them, but he's always convinced himself that it wasn't important, that it didn't compare to what he was doing, to the people he was helping as Robin.

But that's not his situation anymore, right? He's not Robin now, so it's not like Bruce can fire him. Jason can just carry on, whether Bruce likes it or not. That thought gets a smirk from him. His expression widens when he sees Tim eyeing him (that's kinda going to become their thing, isn't it?). Whatever had happened before between them doesn't matter. Not really. Tim is willing to make an effort to start over and Jason has no choice but to do so. Even so, the way Tim reacts does have some amusement value. Best to think of it in those terms.

Really, the idea of what he might have done in the past he cannot remember is something he refuses to dwell on. Maybe that's not a good thing, but it's the best he can do. There are... things inside him. Things he's tried to ignore, telling himself they weren't relevant. Things that come from a time when he was alone and angry and sure he'd not see his next birthday. Things from a time from before he met the Bat.

"Bruce is out of town," Tim says, breaking into Jason's runaway thoughts. "But Alfred will talk to him as soon as he's back. It's not the sort of thing any of us want to do over the phone," he adds.

Jason nods absently. It takes a moment for Tim's words to really register. Alfred knows. Well, he knew that before, but... ALFRED knows. And he misses Al. Maybe the old Butler can help fill in the blanks. After all, the man is a power in his own right. Maybe that magic won't be able to stand up against his butler powers of awesomeness! Okay, that is a seriously stupid thought, but he's back to grinning and it is worth a shot. At this point, he's willing to try anything.

"You got enough for a cab?" he asks Tim suddenly.

The boy gives him an "I'm not sure if I trust you not to turn psychotic" look again. "Yes," comes the slow, cautious reply.

"Come on, I gotta go see Al. He always knows how to make things make sense."

"Uh, I'm not..."

"If nothing else, you know he'll give us cookies." Tim is frowning at him. It's not quite a scowl, but he's clearly not impressed with Jason's reasoning. Or maybe he thinks that the reason is less than honest? Jason tries to hold back his grin, but it's hard. He doesn't want Tim to distrust him. He doesn't want anyone to distrust him. At least not... not family. He's thinking of Tim as family without even questioning it.

"I miss him," Jason explains glumly. Will he forever be judged for things he can't even fucking remember? Stupid question; he knows the answer is "yes," cuz that's just how the world works.

Tim is nodding slowly. The expression on his face is not one of sympathy (and thank God for that!), but it is one of understanding. Hopefully it's one of understanding.

"Besides, you know that Al can shoo us out before Bruce even gets in the driveway if need be." Jason's not sure how he does it, but the man has an amazing sixth sense about where people are and what they need.

"Alright," Tim agrees slowly. "Just let me call him."

Jason does not jump up and down or punch the air, but it's a near thing. He can't stop grinning from ear to ear. He waits patiently as the kid raises his cell phone once more. It's kind of interesting, listening to half a conversation.

"Hi Alfred." A pause. No doubt the butler is saying something polite and properly cordial. "Yes, he's right here and he wants to see you." Another pause. "Yes, you, not Bruce." A longer pause and Tim glances at Jason. What is the butler saying? "That's pretty much what he said," Tim replies, still eyeing Jason. Jason feels his own eyebrow quirk in response. "That would be very nice, thank you, Alfred."

Jason eyes Tim as the youth disconnects and pockets the phone. "He said there'll be cookies waiting," Tim explains as he stands up.

That's all the incentive he needs to clamber out of the booth and stand there, bouncing on his toes as he waits for Tim do the same. "Alright!" More than a few heads turn his way at his outburst, but he really doesn't care. He doesn't grab Tim's arm, but only 'cuz the kid is already moving under his own power. Without looking back, Jason heads for the door and stands on the curb. Raising his hand, he sets about hailing a cab.

He's about ready to scream when the third one passes him by, but then Tim is there, raising his own hand. Jason glances over at the upraised hand and, heh, it's holding a gold card. Sure enough one of the insane cabs cuts across four lanes of traffic before coming to a screeching stop at the curb. Jason doesn't question it; he just opens the back door and climbs in. Tim follows at a more sedate pace and gives the cabby the address for Wayne Manor.

The cabby doesn't even blink and they take off at top speed. Jason is practically vibrating in the back seat, and this seems to amuse Tim no end. "You look like you really need to go pee," he says. Jason scowls and tries to still himself by sheer force of will. It works for about three minutes.

The ride is way too long. He keeps thinking about all the routes he would have taken on his bike and how it wouldn't require even a fraction of the time. Of course, most of that would be very illegal and involve places a sedan wouldn't fit. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans back into the seat with a huff.

Tim is looking at him, he can feel it. He's getting used to the kid's eyes on him, that feeling of being mentally dissected. Still, he does just about jump out of his skin when a gentle hand rests on his shoulder. Looking over he can see the kid's expression: a mixture of amusement and concern.

Jason just gives a little shrug, followed by a full body shake. He really needs to get a hold of himself.

Finally, they are pulling up to the main gates and that's when the nerves start all over again, damn it. What the fuck is wrong with him? It's AL, of all people—the one guy that can make everything right just by having a plate of cookies at the ready and listening.

But, at the same time, that very ability is what worries Jason so. He doesn't want to disappoint the man. That, more than anything Bruce could say, would tear his heart out. And if everything that HASN'T been said is any indication, he has the horrible feeling he's been a disappointment many times over. Fuck!

His breathing is coming faster as he gets out of the cab, leaving Tim to settle up with the driver. Jason stands on the bottom step and looks up at the imposing double doors. What happens once he's inside? Does he dare find out? As long as he stays out here, he can pretend whatever the hell he wants, but as soon as he goes in, as soon as he sees Al, he won't be able to pretend. Does he have the guts?

Closing his eyes, he focuses on slowing his breathing. Hyperventilating isn't going to help anything. When he opens his eyes again, the cab is gone and Tim is just standing beside him, waiting. Squaring his shoulders, Jason nods to himself and heads up the steps. Of course, when he gets to the top, he's not sure if he should knock or just walk in. He remembers this being his home, but apparently, it hasn't been his home for a while.

Tim solves the dilemma by opening the door for him and walking in. Okay, then. Following the kid inside, Jason looks around. It's pretty much the same. There are a few changes about what painting is where and the like, but otherwise, it's the same. Jason isn't sure how he feels about that. Shouldn't it be noticeably different with all the time that's passed and the shit that's happened? Especially with the whole 'being rebuilt' thing?

He's pondering that with a bit of a scowl, when Tim leads him into the kitchen. As Jason reaches the doorway, he stops. Looking around, he spies the butler as he pulls out yet another tray of piping hot cookies from the oven. Two more batches are already arranged on cooling racks. When the man straightens and looks their way, Jason is torn. Does he flee or does he stand his ground and face whatever anger Alfred may have toward him? Except that Al doesn't do anger, not really. He does that quiet disappointment thing and that is so much worse.

But when Alfred looks at him, there is a quiet smile on his lips as he takes off his oven mitts. "Ah, there you are, Master Jason, Master Tim. Please, come and have a seat." He motions the boys to the table, where a large plate of cookies awaits them in the center.

Tim is already heading for the table, which drives home the fact that Jason has been standing there like an idiot. Hurrying over, he takes a chair that allows him to watch the butler. Absently he reaches for a cookie (which turns out to be peanut butter, so good deal) and begins munching mechanically.

He doesn't miss the look the old Brit and Tim exchange. Crap. He doesn't want to fucking make them worry. Or doubt his sanity. He gives himself a shake. But before he can say anything, Alfred is speaking.

"I imagine this must all be very... perturbing, Master Jason," the quiet words are like a soothing balm. Al understands. Of course, he understands. There never should have been any doubt. He feels himself nodding, because yeah, that is definitely one way to put it. The other ways would likely have Al admonishing him about language. "That is very understandable, and something I will do what I can to ease."

Jason has no idea what to say when the man comes over to stand beside him and places a cool hand on his shoulder. It doesn't stay there long, but the message is clear. Al has his back and that means the world to him.

While he's not exactly floating on cloud nine, a lot of tension drains out of him and it's infinitely easier to breathe. He can actually taste the cookie he's munching on and it's freakin' awesome. In that moment, he's sure he can handle whatever the world throws at him.

He really should know better than to tempt fate.

The doorbell rings and the butler excuses himself. Jason glances at Tim, who shrugs. Bruce wouldn't use the doorbell. Nor would Dick, for that matter. Maybe it's someone from Wayne Enterprises? He honestly has no idea, but whatever it is, it can't be that bad, or Al would have hustled Tim and him out, real quick like.

So he doesn't feel bad about helping himself to another cookie. He has a third stuffed in his mouth, when a mildly-frowning Al returns. The butler's expression sets off all kinds of warning bells and Jason's hands are itching for... a batarang? He's not sure, he just knows he doesn't have it and that makes him feel naked. Whatever, he'll still go to town on whoever's making Alfred unhappy.

"Master Jason, it seems you have a visitor," come the calm, clipped words. He looks behind Al as the butler moves out of the doorway and, sure enough, there is a man in a beige trench coat, walking in like he owns the place.

The newcomer is someone Jason thinks he should know. Someone from the files? It would have to be an ally, right? No way Al would let one of the Gotham rogues in. Jason swallows his mouthful and frowns at the stranger. He's tall, with reddish brown hair and a damned skunk stripe down the middle. It's probably supposed to look dapper but Jason thinks it's stupid. Actually everything about the guy grates on his nerves. Black eyes stare right at Jason and it starts to piss him off. However, before he can say anything, the man breaks the silence himself.

"Jason, it's time we got started on your magical studies."


End file.
